Things that Bind
by final gamer
Summary: Well here goes my first fic ^.^ I hope you all enjoy it! It’s about Miroku and Sango dealing with all of their issues, but mainly Miroku’s and how he can’t let people really get close to him. It’s a nice long one shot so enjoy! Flames are always w


FG: heeey all! I'm final gamer!  
  
Small, horrendously cute, chibi person pops out: And I'm her muse!  
  
FG: ACK! No! Who let you in?! Where's my Miroku!?  
  
SHCCP: (ignores) This story is really really good!!!!! YOU SHOULD READ IT!  
  
FG: . (grabs the small chibi, who squirms, and shoves it in her mouth) Sorry you had to witness that. AHEM! Bring in Miroku with the disclaimer!  
  
Miroku pops in, smiling devilishly: FG does not own Inu Yasha, she is too busy with her plans for world domination to get legal rights. So please don't sue her, she might take your soul.  
  
FG: YAY! I LOVE YOU HOUSHI-SAMA! (Tackles him then sees angry fangirls) eh.(gets off) ok so GO READ! READ!!!!  
  
Things that Bind  
  
Miroku was hurled arduously backwards as the force of the youkai's blow met with his unprepared body. He regrettably felt his staff fling away from his grasp; he was unarmed. Through the ringing in his ears he could faintly perceive battle cries of InuYasha and squeaking warnings from Kagome. Preparing for a much expected devastating collision with the harsh canyon wall behind him, he locked his jaw; no need to have himself wailing in pain- InuYasha would only have another reason to call humans weak.  
  
The violent encounter scheduled with the hard earth never came. Instead, he met with a slightly softer obstacle.  
  
Sango wrapped her arm around the sailing monk and felt the immediate disruption of balance. Gripping her large fire-cat youkai Kirara by its malleable fur, she steadied herself and pulled her friend onto her lap. Prodding Kirara gently with her foot, they darted a bit away to safety.  
  
"Houshi-sama, are you still in good health?" The youkai exterminator questioned with more eagerness to return to the fight than concern.  
  
The young monk groaned, "just let me get my staff," he pleaded, reaching behind her.  
  
Sango was washed with a brief moment of confusion, "Houshi-sama you dropped it rememb-" She was unable to complete her statement; pure shock and rage closed her throat. The familiar feeling of a hand on her backside was enough to confirm the monk's true intent and assure that he was in good condition.  
  
"LECHEROUS MONK!" She cried, shoving him from Kirara's back. Cheeks aflame, she took off into battle.  
  
Miroku laughed inside, no matter how many times it happened, it still remained fresh. He knew very well that Sango always knew it was coming and he also knew she would never stop him until it happened. Perhaps she was more upset with letting it happen than the actual act. Eh well, he thought, it'd be wise to retrieve my staff and help to finish off that demon.  
  
And thus he brushed the incident from his mind as he always did. If I feel guilt, I would be incapable of doing it anymore. That would be upsetting. With some effort, he rose, his body straining from the numerous pains. Soon he was hobbling along, back into combat, assured that sooner or later he would be needed.  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Kagome, grab the shard," InuYasha demanded sheathing his sword and stepping back from the steaming, mangled display of blood and liquefied organs which had once been their youkai foe.  
  
Kagome made a face, "I'm NOT sticking my hand in that."  
  
The hanyou growled, ears twitching atop his silver crop of hair. "Stop cringing, wench and pick it out! It's only a little blood for gods' sake!"  
  
The girl shook her head and looked to the support of her other companions. Sango stood at a distance from the carcass- or was it Miroku- and the houshi hovered over it with feigned interest.  
  
"KAGOME! GET IT OUT WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"  
  
She flinched at the eruption from the half-demon, "InuYasha! Look, it's right there by its brain- YOU get it!"  
  
InuYasha grumbled bitterly and proceeded over to the demon, extracting the small piece of jewel that glowed fiercely bright. Handing it to her, he turned to Miroku, "Where to now, monk?" He asked, feeling precious time slip by every moment they spent standing: time that could be used to look for more shards. Time that could be spent destroying Naraku.  
  
Miroku answered wistfully as he gazed at the setting sun nestled between the tall rocky walls, "well along this path there is a town that rumors about shards," he turned his gaze upward at the left rock wall. "Up that way leads to another rumor mill. It's likely one or both can lead us to some shards."  
  
InuYasha's face was set with determination and direction. "Naraku could get to one of them before we can, we'll split up and meet back at the village along this road. Kagome! Get you magic bag and let's go." (AN: okay come on, what else could the magic bag be but the bottomless book bag she lugs around? ^.^)  
  
Sango felt an uneasiness wash over her previously mellow state. However, her personal worries could not interfere with their soul purpose of defeating Naraku and avenging her brother Kohaku's death.  
  
Miroku grunted in agreement, "we'll meet in three days shard or no."  
  
InuYasha lifted Kagome onto his back, "Feh, maybe you humans won't find one but I'm coming back with a shard," he stated confidently. Without hesitation the hanyou leapt up the canyon wall and over its sheer ledge, leaving the other two to continue on.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Sango pulled out a few of the magic sticks Kagome had given her and crouched over the pile of wood. A gust of icy, biting wind howled through the crevasse of the now pitch-black canyon cliffs and smacked her back; she shook violently. Her callused and bruised hands struggled with igniting the magic sticks and she allowed a growl of frustration to pass through her chapped lips. The kimono draped around her provided little to no warmth and she longed for the protective yet uncomfortable shield her exterminator clothes provided. However, they were stained and crusted with youkai and human blood and the stench kept her from putting it back on. Now she retreated to the much needed warmth and glow of a fire.  
Miroku set another charm around their campsite and bowed in a prayer of protection.  
Swish, swish, swish  
She pressed the stick firmly and struck it again, teeth clenched in annoyance that the magic sticks wouldn't light.  
Swish, swish, SNAP!  
Another broken. Bitterly, she threw them onto the ground and feel onto her back groaning with wrath.  
"Let me do it Sango-chan," the handsome monk offered with a smile reeking of pity. His frame was all she could distinguish in the thick blackness of the night and she watched the dark blob move about the would- be fire.  
With some trying he was able to ignite a magic stick and it was the only thing perceivable in the inky darkness. He set in down into the wood and it flickered, soon catching a spreading across the dried wood.  
"'Twas a blessing that we carried some of that wood with us ne?" He offered with a triumphant smile.  
Sango did not reply; she was a bit preoccupied with the color of the houshi's face. It was a crimson-black shade all along the left side forehead and streaked down his cheeks and onto his neck. It was dry but the top of his head was gleaming slightly in the small fire that fluttered in the wind.  
"Houshi-sama you're face." She exclaimed rather hushed, almost feeling a hurt atop her head as she gazed at him. Perhaps with the removal of her exterminator garments she removed her mind-set from battle and now resided in the calmer portion of the world. How she had not noticed it before startled her, had she been so caught up that it eluded her?  
The priest raised his wrapped hand to his head as if trying to remind him what was there. He flinched at the slight touch, "ah, yes the wound. I should cleanse it," was his absent-minded response, almost uncaring.  
Sango crawled to her pile of clothes where a chibi-Kirara slept and pulled out a small container Kagome had given her to carry water in. The material still felt odd in her hands. What had she called it? Plaster? Plasma? .Ah plastic it was. Carrying it over to her friend she silently ordered him to seat himself next to the fire.  
"It's quite alright Lady Sango," he objected politely. "I can tend to my own wounds, you should rest." Sensing the futility of his words he silenced himself as the dark haired girl dipped a piece of cloth torn from her kimono into the water. Her almond shaped brown eyes focused on his wounds and her battered hands rose gently to his face as she carefully pressed the cloth onto the blood-coated skin.  
She was so close, so dangerously close. It was all Miroku could do to restrain his immoral urges. The scent of her kimono still held reminders of the previous week when Kagome had brought from her world a strange concoction to clean it. However, the fragrance was of faint lilac that nearly calmed him into numbness. But the wincing pain of his wounds as they were washed helped greatly in the matter of staying alert.  
"I apologize for not noticing your afflictions sooner, Houshi-sama," Sango admitted. She turned the cloth over in her fingers to a clean patch and dipped it in the container.  
The monk made a confused face, causing his head to ache sharply. "Please, it's not your responsibility to monitor my state. Don't trouble yourself over it." Of course this statement was out of kindness; he'd love to be tended to so benevolently after long hours of combat- no matter how long it took to happen. And yet at the same time there was truth in his words. He had been on his own most of his life and had never NEEDED anyone's care but his own. Though he was among newfound friends, it did not give reason to be coddled after injuries. First, they would heal my outer wounds but.his thoughts were interrupted by a short snap of pain but soon subsided. But if they were to find my inner wounds, how could I ask them to help? Selfish. It would be simply that. There is no need to unload such personal matters onto people who already are overburdened with grief. No need for people to get that close. Heh.how futile that would be! Much like trying to find warmth in a fading ember.  
His thoughts troubled him and so he shoved them deep down, focusing now on Sango's face as she discarded the bloody cloth and ripped another.  
"That would be most likely impossible, Houshi-sama," came her strained voice. She neglected to turn her attentive eyes from her work, if she had she would've discovered a slightly shocked glint in Miroku's violet eyes.  
"What do you mean, Sango-chan?" The priest inquired as the cold cloth moved from his chin to his neck. The cold wetness of it made his throat muscles retract in shock.  
She raised her eyebrows matter-of-factly but her eyes remained on the motions of the cloth. "You, Kagome, Shippo (AN: I know, he's not in this, tragedy)- even InuYasha. you are all family to me," her face contorted in a dark smile. "Well, you are possibly all I have left in this world. Therefor I could not bear to see something happen to any of you- the pain would be monumental." The firmness on the cloth eased slightly and she raised her head up to meet the houshi's eyes, "being with all of you, reminds me that I'm not alone. You all give me strength-you remind me that there is still reason to wake each day and to draw breath." She realized her outburst and her flood of emotion and she quickly closed her mouth. I got a little carried away there. He must think me a fool for such sugared talk.  
  
Miroku was caught somewhat off guard by his friend's words. It was truly ironic, as he had listened to it. Was it not true for each of them? Without each other they would be alone. It pained him to see how seclusion had frightened Sango. He nearly questioned how he was able not to fear it for his past 16 years. Reaching out to console her was action enough to trigger remembrance. As the rosary beads wrapping his cursed hand shifted with touching her, it served to wash him of his ignorance.  
Of course it had been easy to be alone. He did not truly know what loneliness was and how could he? To experience such a feeling, you must have had something before. Some memory, some happiness that was stolen from you- he had never experienced such a thing. He was born cursed to die. His life a mockery- he was a mockery of what life was.  
Houshi-sama. has always been alone, was the first utterance that Sango could voice inside her mind. The look in the delinquent monk's eyes spoke every bit of his mind. It seemed a colossal mix of regret, misery, despair and pain.  
Do you still feel alone now Houshi-sama?  
She flinched inwardly as round, glass beads struck her skin. The rosary- is that all that binds you to this world?  
"These beads are a curse. and blessing," Miroku's voice said distantly. It was hard to tell whom he was conversing with. "When they seal the Air Rip, it slows the black hole's expansion." His fist clenched, "but truly they only prolong my suffering here. Giving me false hope to cling to." An unexpected smile slid onto his face, "sometimes I wonder why I have not yet given up this folly chase and just uncovered the hole and allow it to overtake me and draw me in."  
"Miroku you could never do such a thing!" Sango wailed, two hot tears burning in her dark eyes and slipping down her cheeks. Grasping his cursed hand in some instinct that caused her to believe he would have done it right then if not for her interference.  
It wasn't for a few moments that she realized her error. She had called Houshi-sama by his first name. (AN: okay a lot of you may be thinking "and that's crucial WHY?" but lemme explain. Since Houshi-sama means Lord Monk, Sango has basically been addressing him by a formal, proper and impersonal name. Calling him by his real name indicates that she recognizes him as someone very dear to her. ^.^)  
Miroku carefully pulled away. "Forgive me, Lady Sango. I should not have involved you in such turbulent matters. I had no intention of upsetting you." Inside, his heart raced; he was not ready to let someone close to him. Thus he had always kept all women at bay with shallow love games- but Sango? Yes, her too. Quite possibly more than any other women he had ever encountered. There was more than lust that drew him to her but something he was not exactly sure he could identify. Love perhaps? That would be horrible. And if she loved him? The thought tore at his heart and swelled in his throat. She'd only hurt in the end, she'd only loose someone else she cared for.  
Suddenly, Miroku felt a sudden jerk of movement and then, before he could react, a soft fabric sweetly scented with lilacs circled his shoulders and soft hair tickled his neck. He could feel her face pressed into his back in an embrace that could not be described simply so. It was a desperate attempt, a call from the heart, for Sango to express her feelings to him. She held him as if she feared to let him go.  
"Lady Sango-"  
"Hou-Miroku," she stuttered, "what binds you to this world?"  
He was unsure how to answer. Why was he still here? Was it the hope that they could catch Naraku in time and save him? None of these sufficed. The simple question burned into him like the fading fire. There was no way to be sure. He felt deep within that he could not leave this world and be done with this misery but why? Well, he wasn't sure.  
"Miroku?" Sango pressed, her pleading tears began to soak the monk's garments and she believed that he might be able to feel them. The rising and falling of his chest had slowly gained speed and his back muscles were tense.  
"I do not know, Lady Sango."  
She bit her lip, overcome with surging emotions. Had he lost hope? Would he leave her? No. No I cannot bear it. I cannot bear loosing another I love.  
The monk felt the pressure of the arms give away and soon he sensed she had let go. A deep longing filled his lungs and his jaw locked. It was unbecoming of a man to be seen so unstable and Miroku could not have that. He had to keep people believing there was no way into his heart.  
But Sango had crawled around and in front of him. Her lovely face wet with tears that turned her eyes red gazed up at the faltering monk's face.  
"Then, Miroku, if-if you are unsure of your purpose here. may I ask that you. stay for me?" Her eyes catapulted down in embarrassment. Unable to see the houshi's reaction, she couldn't see his face contort with overall concern and-could it be- happiness.  
The monk genuinely smiled. "I will stay for you, Lady Sango. I will stay for as long as time will allow me, if only to never see such tears again." He clasped her shaky hand and met with her sudden relieved stare.  
Her hand slid along the glass beads gingerly and the pain of remembrance swept through her. He will stay. as long as time allows. Thoughts interrupted, she discovered the hand moving, slowly rising up to her face where timid finger tips, rough and scarred, felt her soft, slippery cheek. One of the beads brushed her skin and she shivered. Raising her protective eyelash curtain slightly she was able to catch violet eyes. They were scared but excited, sad but happy, but most of all they were fixed on her and they drew her in.  
They sat there like that for a long time, his hand gingerly lying on her cheek, soaking each other in through their eyes. Until at last Sango reached up to steady the monks shaking hand, cupping it, pressing it to her face.  
The beads rolled along her cheek as his hand slid to the back of Sango's thick black blanket of hair. She watched it happen in slow motion, because it seemed that time actually had stopped. The only reminder of reality was quickening beat of her heart.  
A kiss means you're letting her in, Miroku. The monk thought.  
And he knew then that his soul cried out to him for it, he needed to fill the gap in his heart.  
Their lips met, barely. Both hesitated.  
The monk could no longer hold it back, he pressed their lips and soon they were locked in as if they'd been waiting their whole lives. It seemed neither wanted to let go both fearing that this was their last chance.  
The sudden weight lifted from each of their shoulders made them grow increasingly tired. Thus, they simply lowered themselves to the rocky hearth. Sango rested her head upon the monks chest and was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beats of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest.  
Miroku watched the fire as lilac scent filled his nose. The little flames flapped in the fierce wind but still refused to go out. It burned the whole night, to the very last smoldering ember and never, ever fizzled out. ~*~*~  
  
FG: HOORAY! My first fic is finished!!!! Didja like it? WELL DID YOU!!!!????  
  
Miroku: calm down Lady FG  
  
FG: ::swoons:: ahhhhh MIROKU-SAMA I LOVE YOU! ::tackles him::  
  
Miroku: please review or-GACK! ::is tackled:: 


End file.
